Escape from Umbar
by Hamfast Gamgee
Summary: This is a little tale of mine set in 1856 of the Third Age in Umbar.
1. Umbar

Escape from Umbar

Beregelis was sitting on a sunny bank of the river. There was not much on at the moment and Beregelis was resting by the flowing bluey waters watching the splashy waves. The River was large at this point, and Beregelis could only just make out the opposite bank. Beregelis was a young man of Gondor of Numenorean stock, dark-haired stocky and around 25 years old making him rather young for one of his race. Beregelis was a long way from home and had been for a number of years, but this wasn't so much a problem for him as I can say he liked to travel.

There was a call from a friend of his. A blond haired young-man that had been Beregelis's companion for a while. Fregil his name was. 'Pleasant day. But then it often is, this far south. Doesn't make one nostalgic for the rains of home,' smiled the lad, offering Beregelis a bottle of liquid. 'Have a Beer. Speaking of home, I understand that there has been a delivery of those fuses you ordered from Gondor,' Ah, well this was of interest to Beregelis. Beregelis had something of an interest in crafts of metalwork and to do that well one needed fuses, the best of whom he could lay hold of came from Gondor, his home country.

'Oh, great, I could use those, when do I get them?'

'Well, there is a slight problem.'

'Oh, yes, Fregil?' Beregelis was very suspicious here.

'Well, you know that you ordered around 500? Well only 100 actually arrived. And I fear that the civic authorities grabbed the use of those. So I guess you're stuck with those bolts. Any that you haven't used up,' Beregelis sighed. This was nothing unusual. It was hard to get supplies from home. In fact that was a bit of a problem generally for his people at that place. But more of that later!

'What, again?' cried he. 'I paid for those!'

'Yes, and apparently, you can claim compensation for them later, as always!' smiled his companion used to Beregelis's technical interests. 'Which reminds me, it is in the interests of everyone to return to the City of Umbar as fast as we can. I understand there is a party there. Nice bit of food something of a sing-song, I always enjoy those!

'Yes, I'll just stay here with a drink for a while. No harm in that, is there. Then I'll make my way.' Beregelis sighed. 'There are things there I am not happy with after all as you know. Still can't do much about that, can I?' As Beregelis spoke a large flock of white Swans with yellow becks, Berwick swans actually you'd might like to know came flying past across the yellow sun flapping their wings gracefully.

'Well, see you there soon. Don't arrive too late or all the beer will be drunk!' threatened Fregil playfully. After a while, Beregelis finished his beer, untethered his horse, called Binky to him although it did have a more formal official name. The city he was heading to wasn't far by horse and easily recognizable by a bright, tall, sparkling tower commemorating early victories. The climate by the city was an arid, dry one, though by the River was more tropical and had plants of many varieties.

Now was there something I had fogotten? Oh, yes, his people had been under assault by the wild men of the South for a number of years now and where hard pressed. Indeed it looked very likely that the City would fall shortly and then matters would be perilous for those of the West living there. The good folk that where not killed would have to settle for a life of slavery. Beregelis himself was something of a warrior if a little reluctant one. In fact he was more interested in crafts as you have seen and he did desire to move away from soldiering.

Comfortably by the evening Beregelis rode into the City through the main gates of metal and silver, nodding to the gatemen as he passed by. There was indeed ale to be had. And Tea and cakes as well. Something of a party even. A local Inn which Beregelis enjoyed was full to the brim. The Birthday boy was saying, 'Soon be time to return to Gondor. To more habital lands shall we say. With women at least. I haven't had much of a chance for a while.' Which was true. As Umbar the city which was inhabited by these people was pretty much a frontier town, shall we say, it was considered too dangerous for most of the womenfolk and so at that time, the only sex that Beregelis saw was the male one.

Oh, and a few more considerations. The year was 1856 of the third age of the world. The city was under the rule of Gondor as had been said, but for a time recently had been under the control of their enemies. Many of it's inhabitants where under arms as an assault was expected at any time. Beregelis sometimes looked with longing eyes to the lands to the south of the City but it was unadvisable for someone like him to travel there. Many on their own where picked up by their enemies and I am afraid to say that the survival rate wasn't that good. Less that 50% in fact. Something make Beregelis nervous and he pulled out his sword that he had recently retrived.

To be honest, it wasn't quite at it's best. Beregelis had wanted to re-sharpen it, but some of the tools for this where lacking. There just wasn't the facilities to adequally equip everyone in the fortress and some just had to wait. Something to do, I believe to the problems of supply and distance. There was a desperate cry from one of the scouts. Then a fall of arrows. The assault had started. Men shouted, Captains blarred out orders and various companies where organised. This assault was not totally unexpected, you see. Beregelis was ordered to take a position at the wall. But before he had time to prepare, he heard a crash as a ladder thudded to the wall next to him and those of his foes climbed up.

With a cry one of his enemies dashed to Beregelis. The man heaved a sword at him aimed for Beregelis's neck. Beregelis's armour would not have saved him so he was forced to parry with his own sword. This was a desperate one to one. The invader was not giving up and made another slash after slash towards Beregelis. Beregelis took a step backwards and replied with a few parries of his own. Beregelis was not the greatest warrior in Gondor's armies, at least in terms of one to one fighting there where many better than he. Actually Beregelis did have more of a, strategic, shall we say, talent but that wasn't much use here.

With a whirl, the enemies sword just missed Beregelis's forehead, but with a little move he had been taught at the military school, Beregelis moved and his enemies sword flew out of his hand. Beregelis stepped forward but before he could do anything his enemy had vanished. But his body was then hit by a rock, thrown from outside and he was pushed backwards down from the wall. Where he couldn't help but notice that some chaos was in the streets in the nights darkness.

The enemy had broken in, slaying all they could find. As it happened, Beregelis doubted that Umbar would fall from the first assault, but one couldn't be sure. He saw men, many of companies he recognized, trying their best to fight individually, but with not much organization. None of the major captains he could see. Beregelis supposed it would be down to him to say the obvious. He called, putting an edge to his voice, 'Come on, men, get in formation at least!' and with a little persuasion, this advice was taken and the defenders pressed together to form a square. This had the desired effect and at least in that part of the City, the assault lessened.

However, there was some tough fighting to be had in the other sections. The invaders where not easily repelled and it was not until the coming of day, a bright one, which was always the hope of Beregelis's people that the assault lessened and then repelled. Beregelis had a few cuts and bruises and indeed a rather deep one on the neck. But many where worst wounded, even killed than him. Some went to the mess for much-needed victuals such as an early breakfast.

'Bit of a shock the enemy breaking in like that,' commented Fergil, Beregelis's companion.

'Well, that's not too much of a surprise, we where expecting some type of attack weren't we?' replied Beregelis. He was tucking into some kind of eggs. Someone cried and one of the major captains, Ecthelon named after a hero of old, rode by giving the men a salute and stopping for a moment to enquire on their well beaning. But Ecthelon couldn't stay long as some important information had been received and there was an urgent meeting of the King and his council.

And this information was bad news. Basically, a small, but significant fort near to Umbar, that of Irglis had been taken by the enemy. This meant that the people where close to been surrounded by foes. Which also meant......... 'We're pulling out,' Fergil told a slightly incredulous Beregelis. 'Trapped out here, without easy access to our supplies, we would fall to overwhelming hate. '

'But we've been here for generations!' said someone.

'For about a few hundred years. Yes, and only just hanging on. But I think the commanders have made the right decision on this one. We are a bit adrift out here. Or soon will be. But weather or not I approve of it is immaterial. We are pulling out and that's that. It would be nice to think we would be coming back soon. Unless any of us would fancy staying to greet any of our friends from the South!' The last sentence was a rather sarcastic one from Beregelis which didn't get any takers.

The reason been that the main Lord that was Lord of the Southrons their enemy had declared his own personal rule over those lands and many further. He had already declared who his friends and enemies where and had a deeply personal rule based on fear and corruption. Those few that where his favorites lived in ease, but most of those in his control lived in poverty, slavery fear or not at all. The Lord based his wealth on large slave mines in the East of his country where live was miserable, painful and short. He had already designated that all those of Gondor he could find would either be killed or end up there, which most did that left the Gondorian territories.

Now admittedly the men of Gondor hadn't always been whiter than white. There could be amongst some quite a superior attidude to those of other races and some had kept the enemy in conditions that where not much better than slavery, but such thoughts where on the decline if for no other reason than that recent defeats had shown Gondor the meaning of humility.

Anyway, the postings of retreat had been issued. It had to be quick as the danger of been surrounded was a real and growing one. So Beregelis had less than a day to sort out his affairs and pack his belongings. In fact it was with some negotiations that they had time till dawn the next day so urgent was the situation. So it was that at the dawn of a bright, hot day, though there where clouds in the sky and rain was a bit in the air, that in well-ordered companies, the Gondorians marched out of the gates of Umbar.

They marched out with arms and with the anticipation of conflict. Ecthelon had said, 'I would be very surprised if we do not meet any of the enemy on the way back. Therefore we should be prepared. One thing which is important. We are withdrawn, but not running. It does not do sometimes to withdraw too quickly or without order. Neither do we intend the Southrons to have it all their own way. Sometimes we may have to turn and counter-attack them. I will inform you of these times,' these words where not necessarily always listened to but Beregelis was one that paid attention.


	2. The retreat

Escape from Umbar

At first the retreat wasn't too bad. The weather was reasonable for marching and the going was good. But this didn't last long. As the day progress, clouds rolled up and it began to rain hard and the wind blew stronger. Fog and mist came down and the land became boggy and muddy, unusually so, almost as though someone was in control of the weather making it more difficult for them. The evening came it was very cold and the companies had lost contact with each other. Beregelis was sheltering behind a tree in a land of hills which he didn't recognize though others had some idea of what it was.

There where six of them at that moment. Beregelis, Fergil, Danton, Beregond, Thondon and Mercil. Six of the members of Beregelis's company but the Sergent in charge was Fergil, Beregelis companion. Though I must say that in this situation rank was not all important and sometimes a good suggestion by one of the troopers could be taken up. But not everytime. Well, there was some discussion about weather to have a fire as it could attract unfriendly eyes, but as it became quite cold, the need for comfort one over.

Which, I am afraid to tell you, wasn't the best idea. At around midnight on Beregelis watch, he had continued his watching without waking Beregond the next one due as he was up awake with some kind of indigestion bought on by fear anyway so he couldn't sleep, there was a sharp noise. It was what he was afraid of and a man walked into the cave which the men where sheltering in. He gave a cry and woke his fellows.

But it was too late. In walked many of the Harad, their enemy with minds full of hate for Beregelis and his people. Well-armed with sharp weapons. One said, 'There you are, I told you I saw something. Let's get them, no mercy!' There was a sharp struggle, but Beregelis and his friends where overwhelmed. Beregelis noticed before he was bound that Fergil had managed to cut of one of the captors hands as he was taken. Beregelis was thinking, 'Good for him!' but the man snarled at Fergil,

'Just you wait, you'll pay for that one!'

Well the six men where bound and facing their captors. Which where many and each had something of a guard. The captors where men of Harad, pale-skinned with long dark or blond hair. These where people in the command of the Lord which you will find out about later. The captors where discussing what to do with their prisoners and neither option appealed to Beregelis much. 'Lets hang them,' simply suggested one.

'How about playing who can throw the prisoner the furthest down the crevice?' was another alternative.

But the captain countered, 'Now come on. You know our orders. We will sell them to slavery. Into a life of chains, dust and little food. I doubt they'll survive long. But that's slightly more fun. Get going!' There was some grumbling amongst the captors as some would have preferred a more blood-thirsty option, but they followed the orders. Though I can tell you that they didn't always and there where cases of prisoners been slayed out of hand.

For a few hours, Beregelis was miserably dragged bound by the Haradrim. He did wonder where he was been taken. Fergil wondered the same thing and had quietly asked him what Beregelis thought. Beregelis whispered back, 'I wonder if it's Irglis. That's not too far. I wouldn't be surprised if the Harad had made it a slave-town.' Well, the perceptive Beregelis was correct at this point. The next day he was sat down at a quarry pit outside Irglis.

An evil morning dawned for him. Beregelis was in a slave-town so it appeared to him. He supposed that fortifications where taking place early, but he could see many malnourished, wretched, miserable men of all ages doing their best to follow the impossible commands of their slavers. Whips where cracked, some stumbled, only to be whipped the more, and Beregelis noticed many corpses about that the slavers obviously couldn't be bothered to clear.

A gruff voice spoke to Beregelis, 'Can you serve drinks, scum?'

'Oh, is that me, yes I suppose I can!'

'Well, that's lucky for you, if you had said no, we'd have killed you for insubordination. However, we do have an important meeting today. You will help with the drinks. If you spill even a drop, you are dead. Though you are probably dead anyway, so it probably makes no difference!' So later that day, Beregelis was forced to serve drinks at the head table. Which wouldn't have been so bad if it wasn't for the fact that he had the distinct impression he would have been killed at the slightest mistake.

Now, Beregelis's eyes widened as the Lord of the Haradrim walked in and sat down to be served. Though to be honest, he did think for one with so much power he did look a little weedy with a large nose, a rubbery face and very pale skin. One said to him, 'Lord Whitesnake, these are those from the delegation sent to discuss their grievances against your rule and recent conquests.'

The man called Lord Edward Whitesnake gave a slight weedy smile. He said, 'Well, thank you gentlemen. Let none call me an unreasonable man. Not to my face, anyway! Now then, grievances against my rule, well out with it, speak up, be honest now, tell me what you think! Oh, and Baldrick as your nearest a cup of finest wine would go down well with me, thank you!'

Well, Beregelis heard a number of points been raised, like, 'We don't like the corruption of your officials. It seems like it's a case of those with money have influence rather than those with talent or with our interests. This can't be right, can it? Half the advisers in our region are only their because they paid your Governor, money that we cannot possibly collect.'

Or, 'Whitesnake, your men drained the river that we relly on for our water, our crops are dying!'

Or, 'Whitesnake, men under your command are just acting like common thieves!'

Whitesnake looked and gave a condesing smile at these remarks. He made comments like, 'Indeed, Well that is a little harsh, maybe I should look into that!' for a while. Then he stood up and raised his hand. 'Silence!' bellowed he and kicked a stool into the air, knocking out a surprised man eating near him! 'You, you, you and you,' declared he pointing to some of the complaining declaration. 'I condemn you all to death for disloyalty. Go on, take them away and execute them tomorrow. Including all of you people, I don't like your attitude, execute all of them,' half the table where been sentenced to die.

'I should point out that I only invited you here to find out those that where loyal to me. Now I find out who is and who isn't those that aren't shall die. I decide what goes on around here for me and my friends and no-one else. So it isn't fair. Do I look like I'm bothered about that? Those that have disagreed with me can die. Plus I will have a look at your regions and find if you have any allies and kill some of those as well. Plus, you can too, Geockan!' said he turning to one.

'But I've always been loyal to you!' protested the man.

'And without any talent either. Your no use to me. And you bore me. Take him away!' Actually this wasn't totally true of Whitesnake. But he didn't like men of talent getting too close to him. Close, but not to close. Which I can tell you, made life a bit difficult for anyone serving him! Anyway as an encore, Whitesnake turned to his servant Baldrick.

'Baldrick, I thought I told you to serve me some of our best wine, not something that I think came out of your trousers! That is disgusting. Come here!'

'But my lord!' stammered Baldrick, who did nonetheless obey Whitesnake.

Whitesnake clenched his fist. 'Baldrick, headbut my fist!'

Amazingly, Baldrick obeyed and knocked himself clean out . Whitesnake turned to Beregelis. He looked at the man. 'Shall I kill you too?' mused he. 'I might, you know, I have had rather a trying day! Oh, maybe not today, then!' Beregelis looked away in relief thinking that this decision could have been different. And would it be, another day? Whitesnake continued, 'Oh and one more thing, increase the work hours of our slaves by one hour, please. What's that? They already work 24 hours a day? Well, make that 25!'

After that performance, Beregelis was thrown back in his cell with the others. In rather cramped conditions, they had a quiet discussion about their circumstances and the possibility of escape. Fergil was saying, 'We won't have much of a chance for long. The longer we leave it, the more guards we will get and the longer we will have to put up with slavery. I don't rate anyone's chances of survival for long!'

Beregond came up with an idea. He had put his shoulders up against the cells bars. 'You know, I don't think these bars are that strong for us. I think one strong shoulder charge should cause them to collapse!'

'We'll still be in chains, however,' pointed out Beregelis,

'Yes, but look at those rocks outside. I reckon those should smash our chains,' said Fergil.

It seemed desperate, but it was agreed. With some quick, but tough shoving, the cell bars caved in. Then with a few bruises been created, some rocks where used by people to break and escape from the chains they where in. Fortunately at that moment, no guards where about, manpower been scarce at times even for the Haradrim. So, Beregelis was free. 'But we have to move,' pointed out Fergil, scratching his head. With a cry, Beregelis pointed out a tunnel he had found which lead to a street and in the darkness the people slipped away.

Now, I know that this might seem to you like the Haradrim where been a bit lazy and not really taking care of their prisoners. Well, the only thing I can say is that that was what things where like in the fluid war of the time. And yes, I admit that Beregelis and his companions did get lucky! But occasionally, Beregelis did have these moments of good fortune as you will see. Plus moments of extreme bad fortune like getting captured in the first place to make up for it!

Well, it was still dark, in the early morning and Beregelis hid behind some buildings on the edge of town. 'Where do we go now, I don't recognize where we are!' asked one.

Beregelis said, 'Well just head North-West. A few hours we should strike the Harmnen. We'll follow that star!' he pointed to the night sky. Beregelis and some soldiers did have ideas of elementary reading of signs to follow directions when lost, but I'm sorry to say that many had not a clue, been more good at the actual fighting than scouting. But the travelling was in the dark and with many of the Harad not far away, the men didn't risk going straight on the roads, so had to take a more difficult route with rocks, dust and boulders.

But as he stumbled forward Beregelis did see in the sky bellows of smoke drifting and sounds of fire. The Haradrim where destroying much of the country as they moved. This was, unfortunately the way they behaved. It was a fact that green and growing things where much rarer in lands under the Harad control than Gondor and small workshops and smoke been more common. It was a sad sight, even in lands that wasn't his home.

As morning dawned, they where still miles from the River. But at least there was no sound of the enemy for now. It was perilous, but due to speed it was considered worth the risk to march on the open plain. But fortunately no living enemy could be found, though some corpses from both sides where past. But as he past a rocky hill, Beregelis heard a trumped and the sound of men marching quickly.

'Friend or foes?' wondered Fergil. The men where marching towards them and it was impossible to avoid so all they could do was to attempt to hide behind stones that offered little concealement really! But quickly a company marched round the hill in uniform of green and white and familair faces. 'Gondor!' cried Fergil in joy and they all leapt forward to greet their comrades.

It was indeed a company of Gondor. But Beregelis noticed the look of fear in the faces of the men and the rather unorganised natured of them as though the men where retreating in a hurry. Which had been the case. The Captain said, 'Echtelion and our main force isn't far from here. But we must hurry. The enemy is close on our heals and will make every effort to stop us crossing the Anduin. If we can do that we should be close to our reinforcements and our own lands.' The men marched for a short while and soon caught up with the main force.

The river was blue, swift and wide. But the army had supplies of bridge building materials to make a temporary if hazardous crossing. 'Hurry, hurry, hurry, the enemy is near!' Echtelion cried loudly. This was confirmed by arrows flying and some of the enemy's horsemen in blue and red charging into the rear of the column. Some of the arrows flew near to Beregelis and one struck Beregond in the back of the neck, killing Beregelis's companion stone dead.

But there was no time for Beregelis to grieve too much. Horsemen of the Harad galloped up, attacking the retreating men in the rear, close to Beregelis. The retreat and harassment had caused close to panic amongst the men of Gondor and the retreat was near to becoming a rout. It was only when Echtelion cried, 'Turn, about and fight!' that some type of order was resumed. In fact, Beregelis was convinced that it was only Echtelion that prevented a total massacre and no-one returning home.

Beregelis personally was assaulted by 3 Southrons. Now as said, Beregelis wasn't the greatest fighter in the army but he had been given some training. He attempted to whirl his sword with speed, hitting in turn the swords of his enemy. One stroke nearly stabbed Beregelis in the entrails, but with a quick thrust he saved himself swiping the Southron sword away. But facing 3 was ill-fortune. The swords came closer and it was only a matter of time before one hit home. With a cry of triumph one of the Southrons managed to cut Beregelis's neck. Blood flowed, but Beregelis thought it was only a flesh wound.

With a desperate parry and then a swipe, Beregelis did managed to slay one of his foes that fell to the dust. Rather to his surprise as much as anything, this seemed to do the trick and for the moment the other two where dismayed by his fierceness and fled. But there was no time for Beregelis to be triumphant or to worry about his wound. The trumpet for retreat re-sounded and time was at the essence. A rather rickety and unstable structure had been erected across the river by the army for the retreat.

The Gondorians hurried towards it in an effort to escape from the enemy. But more arrows thudded into their line, and with a cry a larger army of Southrons was spotted marching on the horizon close by. Now everyone just put everything into a desperate effort to get over the River. Now it was a case of men running. No effort was made to turn and to delay the Southrons or to fight them as Beregelis couldn't help but notice in contrast to what Turn had said earlier. Beregelis was towards the back. A group of men with him reached the bridged and hurried across.

But it was perilous indeed. Arrows lit with fire whirled around them. The Bridge itself had to be hastily made and didn't seem quite totally stable. Beregelis saw men fall into the water and was careful in the rush and the crush to avoid his footing. His neck-wound was bleeding quite badly, but there was nothing he could do about that. But just in time he made it across the River. As his feet touched the blissfully stable ground there was a cry and a rush and the bridge collapsed behind him. Both Gondorians and Harad fell into the water.

Beregelis dived into the water like others in the army to save someone. But in the time it had taken to grab someone that couldn't swim and drag him to the other bank, smoke had lit up, the current had proved too strong and no others could be saved. Bleeding from his wound, Beregelis sat down with Fergil who had a cut too, to attempt to heal himself as well as taken a much-needed rest.

Now, I am afraid it is impossible to have a confrontation of this nature without considerable harm been done to both sides. Many men had been slain, many more injured. You will be pleased to know that the healers of Gondor where amongst the best in the world, but despite this there where some that would be injured for many years, some more for the rest of their lives. Beregelis in fact in only having a flesh wound was relatively lucky.

Though he certainly wasn't happy. 'I really do hate all this,' complained he. 'Even if it is necessary but why? What a waste. If only we could live happily side by side!' Beregelis was sitting under one of the little trees in the tropical bank of the western Anduin. Fergil gave his shoulder a gentle pat and offered Beregelis a little stew which was all the food they had for now.

'Well, we can't really surrender can we? You've seen what the Lord of the Harad wants to do to us. And while he isn't the only one, the other major lords of the region have the same general attitude. You fancy living the rest of your life in slavery?' he answered Beregelis.

'Yes, I know, though we haven't always been whiter than white ourselves, have we?'

'Yes, that is true. Though the conditions we keep our prisoners or subject countries have always been better than those, there have been times when our people have had an Imperial outlook and we haven't always treated those under us with proper respect at least. But that attitude was some time ago. Quite frankly we simply don't have the power to treat people like we did in the old days. I suppose you're right in that it is rather sad that now that we are seeing the need to live more equally with our neighbours, they have become stirred up in rage against us.'

In fact, the forces ranged against Gondor where a bit of an odd, even unholy mix. Some of the most authoritarian rulers in the recent past had claimed lordship of Gondor and when they had been exposed as bad rulers with scant justification for power and thrown out, they had allied themselves with some of the wilder folk of the South and East in a general campaign against Gondor. However, I'll take you back to the main tale.

Indeed, there was worse news to be had. Not only had Gondor lost it's Southern lands, but also it's eastern ones. Plus, the King of Gondor had been slain in a charge against the Easterlings in the defeat. This caused much consternation amongst many. But not totally all. Fergil had muttered to Beregelis quietly, 'Well, this sounds harsh, but frankly I did prefer his son. Much more of a ruler. I'm not the only person that thinks this, many of our advisors do the same,'

'Bit of a rough way to speak of the dead, however,' replied Beregelis.

But, now the retreat was gathering more and more pace and steam. In fact, the only thing on most of the Soldiers minds was to get to the main River of the West and to cross it to safety. The direction to this was on a tributary from the River Hamnen to it. But Beregelis couldn't help but think the retreat was happening in too much of a disorderly way. 'Don't you think we ought to stop a bit and gather ourselves a little?' he would question, but not many where listening.

There was one night where he didn't get much rest as he had lain down with a dark hill looming behind him. It was a hill with a very evil look about it. With a bit of thought he had realized why. It was a plague hill. Or, rather it was one of those in the year of the plague around 200 years ago, but it still was devastatingly enough for it to be on the back of people's nightmares, but in this plague, many of those of the West where slain due to pestilence. Beregelis didn't sleep that evening, despite his tiredness. He kept on looking at the eerie hill where it seemed to him the unquiet souls of the dead beckoned to him.

The next day the retreat was in full vigour as men desired to get back to habitual lands that where not, relatively speaking, far away now. But across the bank of the tributary, Beregelis kept on noticing things that others appeared not to. Men, he was sure, where gathering across it and not friendly men, either. All day long he could see this, but no-one else appeared to notice, well the retreat was occupying the armies mind.

Eventually, Beregelis could bear this no longer and spoke to Fergil, his immediate commanding officer. 'Look, we are in trouble here. We are still over a day's march away from the River, yet already we are been overtaken. I believe we are in serious danger of been surrounded before we get to the Anduin. We're retreating too heavily. The time has come to order some kind of counter-attack!'

Fergil didn't really take this seriously at first. 'I'm not sure if you've noticed this, but we are been worsted out here. Those Southrons are too strong for us. If we turn around and launch a counter-attack, we'll be slaughtered.'

Beregelis replied thoughtfully, 'Well, not necessarily. Remember what Echtelion said what everyone seems to have forgotten. We shouldn't retreat too hurriedly. There must be some way we can harass the enemy. Perhaps we should attack in an unobvious place. If they are gathering on the banks to the East, they can't be fully prepared yet. Maybe we can attack them at the east? We must at least know the lands a bit better than them.'

Fergil coughed, 'Well, I'll mention it to the Commanders at our next meeting. This evening in fact, I believe,' and to be honest Beregelis didn't think that much would come of his idea. In fact he was more concerned about Thondon a small, dark companion of his that was busy writing away and had been doing for some time during the retreat. Beregelis turned around,

'Why are you scribbling away like that?' he snarled a bit irritably.

Thondon smiled, 'Oh, I'm just writing my journal. I know that many are, but we don't know how many of these will survive. So I thought I'd make my own contribution. Interesting idea of yours, there!' Beregelis sighed and eat what was the last of his rations. He was thinking that food might well be a problem in the future. But that evening there was news of deliveries.

'Yes, some supplies seem to have managed to get through. This time without too much hassle and as ordered. Must be something to do with the fact we are nearer home. Oh, and Beregelis a meeting in a few hours time, you're wanted. Our commander wants to see you, so good luck!' Beregelis wondered what this news from Fergil would mean to him. But in the meantime he had new supplies which was good. Some metal that he could sharpen and repair his sword and dagger with, much needed, food some gerkin for his helmet and some welcome food supplies. He even had delivered some of the fuses he was interested in, oh well, would be nice to have a peacetime interest once he was out of here.

Later he was presented to Echtelion in the Captain's command tent. Beregelis looked around at the Captain surrounded by many of the great and good in the campaign's leadership. Echtelion beckoned Beregelis and Fergil to come over to his table which was covered in maps, goblets and various tactical items. Echtelion smiled at Beregelis, 'You're right!' he said, 'We have been retreating too rapidly. Plus we do know that the enemy is overtaking us on the eastern bank of the River and might well get to Anduin before us. Now some of us will still get through, no doubt, but if we are cut of, many, probably the majority will not. This might just well be a disaster that Gondor will not recover from, Therefore, I agree and we will send out a small but dedicated team to make a counter-attack,'

'Well, I'm glad to be of help, good luck in that counter-attack, goodbye!' Beregelis tried to slope away.

A black man in the Captain's guard called to him, laughing, 'And, um just where do you think you are going? Someone as imaginative as you are will be a vital addition to those in the Counter-attack. It will consist of a few as we cannot spare many, but surely you weren't thinking of making such a suggestion to put men in danger then sneaking of without volunteering yourself, where you?' Been part of such an attack himself was rather more than Beregelis had bargained for and he had thought of that.

The man, called Forgil laughed again, 'Well, I'll be leading this one and you will be coming with me. So will you're commanding officer. So we need to be kitted out. Echtelion can't really come as he will be needed by the general army. But in such a desperate mission we will need special supplies. Deawin, here,' Forgil pointed to a lady of mature years that was in the tent, 'Has just come with the necessary. So, over to you!'

So, Deawin later presented him with a few items. A leather jacket, a better knife, some cunning poison which could be needed with arrows and some special leaves to help him with any injuries. 'It's not just you, the entire party you are with will be fitted with these. It took some time for us to get them to you and we nearly lost our way, you know! Anyway, good luck, I won't be staying the council of Gondor wants me. I'll have to speed on ahead of you with my little escort, farewell!'

'Indeed,' thought Beregelis. A very short while later, he was in a boat with Fergil, Forgil the commander of the counter-attack was in a boat behind. They where very small, river-travelling rowing boats, a little bit like cockles. With Beregelis was a rather small, hairy little man who was the Scout. He was one that knew the rivers and lands well around those parts. He was called Kili, an odd name for a man and indeed it was said that he was half-Dwarf, but this was ridiculous of course!


	3. The debatable conclusion

Kili was in fact, finishing his late meal as he looked around the streams. He was eating something vegetable and rather smelly. He offered some to Beregelis who politely refused. Nothing like fear to dampen ones appetite! 'Please yourself, this is Ithilien Garlic, a classic veg! Good for the noise, you know! And puts hairs on your toes! Still, to business. I can see where the current's taking us. Now then, we should get in close to the enemy rather than waste our time walking for hours. I know of one or two little spots where a small but dedicated group of people could cause chaos. The enemy have only recently come here, I wonder if they know this? How many of us are there?'

'Around Sixty in this party!' sighed Beregelis.

'Well, I reckon we will be facing thousands. Ha, ha, they don't stand a chance!' chortled Kili.

Beregelis did not appreciate this sort of humour at the moment. He was thinking that the best this party could hope for was to be slaughtered quickly! In the night air as the little boats sped along quietly Beregelis bitterly regretted his idea for a counter-attack and rather wished that he had kept his big mouth shut. When he and his companions crept onto the eastern bank, under some gloomy rocks in the night he was wishing there was a way out of this army!

Beregelis and the commanders of the sortie climbed quietly up a rocky, rather barren hill overlooking the river. Beregelis asked, 'So, do we have any sort of plan then?' as he looked around the country which seemed to him barren and deserted not much like the war-zone that he knew it was.

'Not much, I'm afraid we are bit reliant on the information that Kili can get for us,' replied Forgil.

'Good, don't think much of plans myself, complicate matters and you always have to change them anyway!' Kili grinned in the darkness. Beregelis wasn't sure how serious he was. Then Kili coughed quietly, 'And I suggest that you lot all drop back down next to me!' Kili was cowering under a rock that easily hid his little body. No-one took up his suggestion. 'Well, fine but you'd better watch those arrows!'

'What arrows?' asked Beregelis then a few flew in the air and landed near to them. This time he took Kili's advice. 'Oh, those arrows!' he confirmed sighing. Kili was looking downwards. Not only did Kili look like a Dwarf, but he had one of the best eyesights in the Army. He turned around at the others with a little degree of scorn. He sighed,

'If you people weren't practically blind or paid some kind of attention to your surroundings, you might have noticed those down there!' Kili pointed downwards. With when it was pointed out to him, Beregelis could see something which caused him concern, though no great surprise. It appeared that a large group of Southrons where gathering along the river below. Also they seemed to be building some kind of temporary jetty to harbour boats.

This was the advanced party of the Southrons following the men of Gondor. They where building jettys across the river so that boats could travel across it and quickly cut off the men of Gondor before they reached the border of the Anduin river.

I suppose I should say a few words about the river systems of the country around here, or you poor reader might get a bit confused. The first river which Beregelis had crossed, you remember the one in which poor Beregond was slain was the River Harnnen the first major one out of Umbar which flowed across the country to the sea. To the north where the army was heading was the Anduin which flowed much the same way, but was a bigger river and beyond it lay the country of Gondor where many of the armies friends lived.

But between them which was quite a few hundred miles there did flow many other smaller rivers. Some of which flowed to the sea like the one that the men of Gondor had been following as it was the quickest route, but one flew between the Harnnen and the Anduin. This was the one which Beregelis was looking down upon. It was slightly longer than the one which the men of Gondor where taken, but with their gathering speed, the Southrons seemed fast enough to catch up.

I would draw a map but my Cartography is hopeless. Plus, the land has changed their in all of the thousands of years since this tale took place and sadly I don't think that any accurate maps has survived. So I'm afraid the more detailed territory will have to remain in your head, dear reader!

Forgil asked, worried, 'Do you think the Southrons have spotted us?'

Kili replied, 'Lets hope not. Possibly the enemy where just getting a bit jumpy and shooting at anything suspicious. Lets hope that they don't think that the Gondorians are here!' This sounded a bit unconvincing to Beregelis, but one could hope! But quickly and quietly, the party prepared their arrows and got into shooting positions.

Fergil called at the appropriate moment, 'Fire!' and a rain of arrows fell down upon the Southrons below. Most hit their mark and the Southrons panicked and tried to find cover which did not prevent another hail from the men above. In the confusion which had been unleashed upon the Southrons, the Gondorians leader, Forgil decided that this was time for an attack. He gave out a yell and the sixty Gondor men charged down the hill at the enemy.

There was some tough fighting in the banks of the river for around half an hour. As usual in the confusion Beregelis became more concerned about his own private battle than the main one against a well-armed enemy. In the desperate fight, Beregelis managed to slay him with a quick chop to the navel but not before he himself had been given a good thrust in the chest. But the newly acquired tough leather had saved him. Once he removed his blood-stained sword from his enemies neck he realized that he had bruised ribs which was painful and would slow him down a bit.

But with a curious look around, he wondered how everyone else was getting on and to his surprise he found that all his friends where alive. Indeed the only casualties, for the moment, seemed to be with the Southrons. Thanks partly to the better quality of their weapons, some of which had only recently been delivered from the nearly Elvish town of Dol Armoth, everyone had survived with a few Southron prisoners taken.

But there wasn't much time for rest. After a brief snack, there was bad news. A stronger force of the enemy where approaching and the party had been spotted. These numbered more than a thousand and there was no escape this time from their eyes. Beregelis gave a resigned look at Fergil. But just when the fighting appeared to start, something odd happened. One of the Southrons took out a white flag of parley and cautiously made his way towards their lines.

'That's fair enough, we can hear you from their!' called Forgil to the man with the flag.

'Probably coming to give us an offer of slavery!' muttered Fergil to Beregelis.

The man with the parley was standing behind a rock looking at the men of Gondor he called, 'We have been surprisingly impressed with your fighting ability. We are to make you an offer. Let us join you. There is no future with us here under Whitesnake. We think we can now beat him with you on our side. This is the only chance we now have! The chain-mail clad men looked at each other and paused as they awaited the reply.

A quick discussion was had by the leaders of the men of Gondor. 'Do you think we can trust them?'

'Not sure we have much choice,' replied Forgil and Beregelis tended to agree with him.

Then one of those potential defectors from the Southrons continued, 'I might point out that we don't have much time to make this decision. Coming up, only a league or so behind is the main force of Whitesnake's army. There is nothing to stop him from cutting off your friends before they reach the Anduin. Plus when they come if you are still undecided for our own lives sake we will have to assume your answer is no and we will have to much in with Whitesnake and assume this parley never took place.' The Southron smiled. 'That should give you some incentive to make your minds up!'

Beregelis grimaced. It would appear that the Southrons did posses a sense of humour. But then Forgil responded, 'No need for that. It appears we do have no choice. We have to trust you. Come, take up your positions.' Forgil and the Southron embraced. The Southrons took some sort of cover behind the rocks. Now a stronger force under Whitesnake was heard to come and Whitesnake himself could be seen.

'We do have one advantage is that Whitesnake does not know of your presence here. He has left much of his army to follow yours on its retreat. The idea that you might counter-attack here will be a surprise to him,' said the Southron. In the meantime, the night grew old and some light was in the sky. Beregelis crouched down the sand and could see Whitesnake's force. It was certainly strong and many of it's men where singing as they marched. The men of Gondor's hands tensed as they loosened their weapons.

'Well, this looks like it,' said Beregelis. 'I suppose they might make a song of this occasion. Probably sing that we all or mostly died. ' Well, Beregelis was right about the song. A song was made and sung years later. Perhaps you'd like to hear it? I do have it in my possession. It was a song or poem describing the battle and went like this........

Away from home in the southland sands

The few men of Gondor took the stand

Outnumbered with no chance to fly

'Twere now expecting only to die

With a cry the Southrons did attack

Pushing the men of Gondor back

Swords clashed and blood did flow

The men had nowhere else to go

In the confusion none could see

What the battles outcome would be

But after a time an unexpected sight

The men of Gondor where winning the fight

yes, though outnumbered where they

Greater skill had won the day

The men of Gondor in the dust and dirt

Had done the enemy considerable hurt

Through the southrons line they did rent

And coming even to Captain Whitesnake's tent

Whitesnake was there, standing tall

But to Forgil's sword he did fall.

The Damage to those of Gondor was few

Compared to the enemy that were slain or flew

Causing the force of the Southrons to run

Renown and honour the men had won

Well, that was poetry. Beregelis might have had a word with the poet had he heard of it, and for all I know, he might have done. Actually fighting in the battle was different from writing about it! But essentially the poet was correct. Due to been recently equipped, in more familiar territory, even better fight, the Gondor force was able to utterly rout Whitesnake with little hurt to itself. And Forgil had come even to Whitesnake before he could flee. At first Forgil was thrown back, but before Whitesnake had time to prepare anything else, Forgil had gathered what men he could find and had re-attacked, this time slaying the Southron commander in a duel and with that, the rest of the Southron force was put to flight, leaving behind most of their weaponary and equiptment.

A victory it was. But although a major one, it was still bloody and deadly as any war is. Beregelis was not in much of a mood to celebrate too much either. Two of his friends where amongst those that where slain, even though they where few. Kili, the scout was killed early on, an arrow had pierced his neck and he fell with a cry. So too had one of Beregelis's close fiends, Danton, you remember the one that was writing the journal. He and Beregelis had been among those that had attacked Whitesnake's guard with Forgil.

Beregelis had been floored by a whirling steel ball, cracking his rib cage and he would be in pain for a number of weeks now. But Danton had been sliced in his back cutting through his armour and as he lost conscious, Beregelis saw Danton fall, the hand which he had been writing the journal been cut and flowing with blood as his body hit the ground.

When Beregelis recovered, he now realized that the army was pulling out totally. Some, rather insane in Beregelis's viewpoint had considered staying, but Forgil had spoken against this urgently saying that more of the forces of the Haradrim where on the way. 'We've only destroyed their vanguard. A good deed, but if we stay out here, we will be surrounded again and this time with a stronger force. We've done what we set out to do, let us now retreat while we can. Beyond the Anduin, we can be all more effective!' and that was done.

A day later, Beregelis was in a boat, rowing across the Anduin at night, departing for more safer grounds. He was not in an altogether happy mood, though he was pleased in a way to be going home. Over to Umbar, now far away, a light of fire could be seen. 'Looks like the enemy are setting light to their own city, must be looting there,' muttered someone.

Beregelis disagreed. 'No, that light is too strong for that and we are too far away too see. I think it is that tower we have commemorating our ancient victory over the Evil lord Sauron. You know that many of the Haradrim worship his memory. I think that they might well be burning that. They would love for a chance!' As it happened, Sauron was still alive, long in the future would be his fall, but he lived in different guise, so Beregelis would not be aware of his existence. But he was right about the tower, it was the tower of Umbar up in flames.

This made Beregelis a little gloomy. 'Well, one can only say that was a complete disaster,' he complained.

Fergil his commander looked around. 'Some might say that as we have suffered a reversal and are forced out of out southlands. But there are those that might say this is a blessing. '

'How do you work that one out?'

'Beregelis, many of us have for years argued that Gondor has been far too stretched. You yourself have experienced the problem of keeping supplies to the far corners of our rule, it just cost us too much. Some have tried to pesuade our high command to retreat voluntarily across Anduin and to concentrate upon a smaller, easier to control country, but our lord did not like the idea and frankly didn't see our arguments.

'Well, now we have to and that some of us believe works in our favour,'

'Ah, the minority point of view!' smiled someone. But of course minority points of view are sometimes correct and Beregelis was beginning to think about to this.

'But then why where the Harad so keen to capture this terrotory?' he asked.

'Perhaps because in a way, their commanders make the same mistakes as ours!'

Years, even centuries later, these events which where well-chronicled, perhaps by people such as Danton, whose journal was read by one Thorongil who looked at it and used the same idea himself to launch a counter-attack at an unexpected place and was equally rewarded. But that was for the future. Indeed Beregelis contribution wasn't remembered by many. You remember his contribution it was his idea to launch the vital counter-attack in the first place.

Now, I do admit and reading this information as it has come to me, that all of the retreating, counter-attacking and retreating again does look a bit confusing at first read. But the important thing to remember is that Beregelis had the bright idea to launch a counter-attack at just the right time and place to give the Gondor army some breathing space and enable it to retreat across the Anduin.

A good thing too for Gondor as events in the future would require it to have all the men it could get.

So what did happen to Beregelis for the rest of his life, did he ever receive the peace that he so longed for? Well, sadly for him, he was alive just before the years of the watchful peace. He did have a few years of peace, but then there was pretty severe trouble with the Wainriders where Gondor came close to extinction. But his own involvement in these wars was patchy and at least he did have some times of peace. But this is the end of this particular tale.

THE END.


End file.
